


An Unspoken Thing

by ShenanigansEnsue



Series: Shenanigans and Imagines [58]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShenanigansEnsue/pseuds/ShenanigansEnsue
Summary: Requested by Anonymous:Could you do a Dr. Strange x reader where their unspoken thing is addressed? Love your work. Have a great day. :)





	An Unspoken Thing

           Your vision grew blurry as you stared at the tomes in front of you. Still you persisted, straightening up in your seat and shaking your head to stay focused.  Your tea had long since run out and you didn’t dare to get up to make a new brew.  You knew the moment you did; your bed would call to you and all your will power would drain away.

           “Late night?” a voice asked right beside your ear.

           You jumped out of you seat, your adrenaline spiking and ready for a fight.  You were only met with laughter. Turning around, Stephen Strange stood behind you looking much too pleased with himself.

           “What do you want Strange,” you asked with a groan.  

           “Well, I was planning on carrying your unconscious body back to bed, but it seems your still awake.”  

           “I find that sentence mildly disturbing,” you countered dryly.

           It was only then he seemed to realize how bad it sounded.  His expression shifted, allowing you could to see the wheels of his mind turning in an attempt to backpedal.  You had to admit, it was entertaining.

           “But, I understand the sentiment,” you said, deciding to take mercy on him. “Don’t worry doctor, I won’t be up for much longer.”

           You turned back in your seat, as a silent end to your conversation.  Apparently, Strange didn’t see it that way.  He quickly took a place beside you and closed your open book with a hard slam.

           “No, you’re going to bed now,” he said.

           “No, I need to finish these notes,” you said, opening the book again.

           He wasn’t disturbed and shut it once more.

          “You can finish them in the morning.”

          You rolled your eyes, grabbing another book off the pile.  Before you could even lay it on the table, he snatched it out of your hands and out of your reach.  You huffed a sigh of frustration.

           “Hypocrite,” you mumbled.

           “Definitely,” he conceded with a smirk, “but the point still stands.”

           You wanted very much to wipe that damn smile off his face, but he wasn’t wrong. You honestly weren’t sure what was keeping you awake any more.

           “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “Help me put these away.  Wong will have my head if I leave them just lying around.”

           To your relief, and slight surprise, he didn’t rub his victory in your face and gathered an armful of books without protest. Over the time you had gotten to know Strange, you understood him as a man who always had to have the last word. It was what made him simultaneously fun and infuriating to talk to.  You could only assume him winning the conversation was enough for him.  

           An ironic smile spread across your lips at the thought.  You’d get him next time.  It was how it had always between the two of you ever since you met.  An even match of verbal sparring ending with triumphant smirks and half smiles.  

          And maybe a lingering look neither of you spoke of.

          You shook your head, pulling your focus to one of the many ladders scattered around the library.  The wood creaked beneath your feet with every step, making your heart beat just a little faster.  You weren’t a huge fan of heights to begin with.  So, the fact nobody had bothered to replace the ladders in over fifty years didn’t help.  You ignored it as best you could, keeping your eyes focused on the shelves in front of you.  

          You were so concentrated you didn’t notice the orange sparks beside your head until it was too late.

          For the second time that night you jumped in panic, as a detached hand appeared right behind you placing one of the books on the shelf.  You let out a yelp of surprise, nearly falling of the ladder as you jerked away.  Luckily, your reflexes kicked in snapping your hands to handles gripping them like a life line.

          “Strange!” you cursed.

          A low chuckle followed as the hand disappeared beside you.

          “Sorry,” he said.

          It was then you noticed ladder had become much more stead.  Peering down, you saw Strange holding its sides giving you an apologetic look.

          “I think that qualifies as a misuse of magic,” you snapped, getting your heart rate back in check.

          “Unless you also want to count creating portals every morning, so you don’t have to walk to the kitchen as “misuse”, I don’t think it does,” he countered.  

          You wanted to blame the adrenaline and your tired state for not being able to think of an argument, but you knew better.  He had won, again.

          “You’re still an asshole.”

          “Noted.”  

          You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head before climbing back down. Strange kept you steady the entire way.  As you reached the last few steps, he moved to the side, keeping one hand on the ladder while the other, he offered to you. You stopped before the final step, your eyes widened at the gesture.  

          He was still self-conscious of his hands, usually hiding them away behind his back or in his pockets when he wasn’t practicing the mystic arts.  He didn’t like the questions they raised or the looks of pity when he was anywhere outside the sanctum.  For him to offer them to you so freely; it took you off guard.  For a long moment, all you could do was stare.

          Strange seemed to take your silence as a rejection. A practiced blank look took over his features. His body stiffened, and he pulled his hand away.  You were faster.  He didn’t even make it to his side before you took his hand in yours and squeezed.

          His fingers were rough with surgical scars, but still warm and comforting against your skin.  He stared at you in surprise.  He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.  You felt a small swell of pride at that.  It was quite an accomplishment to leave Stephen Strange speechless.  

          You nodded toward the ladder expectantly, giving him a teasing smile. His eyes soften, giving you a rare genuine smile in return.  He then raised his hand and helped guide you back safely to the ground.  

          “Thank you.”

          “You’re welcome,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish. “I really am sorry.”

          “You’re forgiven,” you said, gently. “Just wait until I’m on solid ground next time.”

          “Next time.”

          There was a pause and you realized he hadn’t let go of your hand.

          Your heart started to beat faster than when you had nearly fallen off the ladder. He was close; so close, your chests were practically touching. You looked up to meet his gaze to find him already staring back at you. You could never get over the color of his eyes.  They were undeniably blue, but still contained just the slightest shade of green, making it appear he and an entire nebula within them.  His eyes then flickered downward, lingering on your lips for a second too long, before meeting yours once more.

          “You know,” he said carefully, “eventually we’re going to have to do something about this.”

          You heart stopped. You averted your gaze, wishing he hadn’t said it out loud.

           “We don’t _have_ to,” you said, trying to keep you voice light, but it only came off as forced.  

           “Why not?”

           It wasn’t a challenge.  It was an honest question, and one you weren’t even sure you liked the answer to.

           “Because I like this part,” you sighed. “Because every time I’ve moved past this part, its blown up in my face.”

           “It doesn’t have to.”

           “Doesn’t it?  How many times has it blown up in your face?”

           He stiffened, and you immediately felt guilty.  Even though he and Christine had officially put an end to their off again, on again relationship months before, it was still a healing wound.  They had shared a similar rapport you now had with Strange, only to discover it didn’t work outside the surgical suite.  Who was to say it wouldn’t be the same with you?

           “It doesn’t change the fact we can’t keep it up forever,” he said simply.

            “Maybe,” you conceded. “I do like you Stephen.  It’s just the rest of it I’m not so sure about.”

           He considered your words carefully.

          “I guess that’s something I’ll have to work on,” he concluded.

           A small smile escaped your lips.  You had to admire his determination.

           “It’s not just you,” you admitted.

           He gave you a curious look, but never got the answer as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

           “Goodnight,” you whispered, before walking away without another word.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you like this, check out my tumblr @ https://shenanigans-and-imagines.tumblr.com
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you're so inclined.


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